Chapter Text
The park was quiet.
A dense blanket of fog had long since settled over the trees and damp pavement, leaving everything glistening beneath the pale glow of the streetlights lining the benches.
Gwen ran through the haze, passing little more than silhouettes of trees and empty paths. Her dark hair was pulled into a high ponytail that swayed with every stride. Sweat clung to her forehead despite the cool night air. Her lungs burned, her legs threatened to cramp, and every breath scraped against her chest.
She was desperately thirsty. The bottle of water she'd left at home had seemed unnecessary at the time. So had her phone. Late-night runs had become a habit. The emptier the streets, the easier it was to drown out the noise in her own head... or at least pretend she could outrun it. Deep down, Gwen knew wandering through New York alone after dark wasn't exactly a healthy habit. The rational part of her brain tried to protest.
She ignored it.
She was a grown woman. She could stand up for herself.
Gwen slowed to a stop in the middle of the bike path, bending slightly as she fought to catch her breath. Fifteen more minutes until home.
Somewhere in the distance, a bottle shattered. Laughter followed. The streetlights reached only so far, swallowing everything beyond their circles of light into the fog. Gwen held her breath and scanned the darkness, her pulse suddenly louder than the distant voices.
After a few moments, the laughter faded, drifting farther away.
She exhaled. False alarm. She pushed off into another run. Barely a few strides later, she stopped again. A figure in a long coat stepped out of the fog. Her muscles tensed instantly.
Seriously?
Out of all nights...Did this stupid habit really have to catch up with her on her birthday?
Not eager to tempt fate, Gwen veered off the path and cut across the grass, giving the stranger a wide berth. He didn't even look at her. Just walked past.
Relief barely had time to settle before a sharp whistle sliced through the silence. Another man appeared directly ahead, as though the fog itself had spat him out.
Gwen skidded to a halt.
The young man grinned, lazily flipping a butterfly knife between his fingers. The polished blade caught the light with every effortless spin, flashing silver against the darkness.
"Where you going?" he rasped with a laugh.
Without answering, Gwen turned and sprinted the other way. Chill crawled down her spine. She almost slammed into another man. This one had a patchy ginger beard and a scar running across his cheek. Two more guys stepped in from either side, hands buried in the pockets of worn leather jackets.
Gwen's eyes darted between them.
Five.
All taller than her, all dressed in black, and they had boxed her in.
The largest stood directly ahead. Broad shoulders, heavy build, an unbuttoned overcoat hanging from his frame. Definitely not him. Even if she landed a clean hit, she'd barely slow him down. The two on his right looked younger, maybe twenty at most; however, not an option. Two against one still small chances to win. A cough sounded behind Gwen. The man with the knife. Definitely not him either. He looked like the type who wouldn't hesitate to use his weapon against his prey.
For one absurd second, Gwen imagined her parents somewhere above, shaking their heads in disappointment. She knew her luck couldn't last forever. New York was Pandora's box, filled with every kind of monster imaginable. Especially if you insisted on looking for trouble.
Her gaze settled on the man to her left. Unlike the others, he wasn't smiling. He stood stiffly with his hands in his pockets, shoulders slightly hunched, lips pressed into a thin line. He looked annoyed, but not at her. At all of this. Like he'd shown up because he had to, not because he wanted to. Gwen gave the slightest nod to herself.
This one.
"Didn't your parents ever teach you it's dangerous for a girl to be out alone this late?" the man with the butterfly knife sneered. The others burst into laughter. The man on Gwen's left didn't.
Instead, he shot his companion an irritated look. "Are we doing this, or are we just gonna stand here?" His attention shifted for only a second.
That was enough.
Gwen exploded into motion. Her heel slammed sideways into his knee. A sickening crack echoed through the park. The man screamed. "Bitch!"
While the others were still trying to process what had just happened, Gwen vaulted over the man writhing on the ground and bolted toward the park exit. She hoped they wouldn't bother chasing her, but she wasn't surprised when they did.
A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed it. The broad-shouldered giant she'd mentally nicknamed Wardrobe, the redhead, and Butterfly Knife were all on her heels. They could've stayed behind and scraped their buddy's manhood off the pavement instead.
Adrenaline drowned out the burning in her legs, lending her a second wind. Running home was out of the question. The last thing she needed was these assholes hanging around outside her apartment. Might as well hand them her address and leave the spare key under the doormat.
First, she had to lose them. To her immense disappointment, they were fast. Wardrobe gradually fell behind before disappearing from sight altogether, but the other two refused to give up the chase. Gwen kept close to the buildings, avoiding open streets whenever she could. Maybe she'd lose them in the concrete maze. Sure, narrow alleys also made it easier to corner someone. On the other hand, they offered plenty of places to disappear.
She risked another glance behind her. No one. Had they finally given up? Had they realized she'd slipped away? The hopeful thought had barely crossed her mind before Butterfly Knife burst around the corner. His breathing was ragged now, every inhale scraping loudly through the night, but the grin on his face hadn't faded.
Startled, Gwen shoved a dumpster into his path before taking off again. Maybe it'd buy her two seconds. Three, if she got lucky. She rounded another corner and stopped.
A dead end.
Fantastic.
Her eyes darted around in search of somewhere, anywhere, to hide. Nothing. Just overflowing dumpsters, black garbage bags, and brick walls.
"Hurry up!" someone shouted from somewhere behind the corner. "She ran this way!"
As footsteps thundered closer, Gwen desperately searched for somewhere to hide. Her heart hammered against her ribs. Her mouth was dry, whether from fear or the run she couldn't tell. She'd already cursed herself a hundred times for going out alone this late. If she somehow made it out of this alive, she'd be incredibly proud of herself. She'd be even prouder if she hadn't gotten herself into this mess in the first place.
The voices were getting closer, but she still didn't have a plan. Gwen backed up until her shoulders met the brick wall at the end of the alley. Guess she'd have to fight. What other choice did she have? Hopefully Wardrobe had gotten lost somewhere along the way.
The thought had barely crossed her mind before the men rushed into the alley. Butterfly Knife laughed triumphantly, wiping sweat from his flushed face. "You sure made us work for it."
Gwen forced the corner of her mouth into something resembling a smile. She was exhausted. Every breath burned. Dark spots danced across her vision. Her legs were barely holding her up. But Gwendoline Bright was stubborn. And she had absolutely no intention of dying next to a pile of rotting garbage.
"The games are over," Butterfly Knife said after a pause. "The guy whose leg you broke? That's my brother." His grin faded. "And I really don't like people messing with my family."
For a split second, Gwen felt like a rabbit cornered by a wolf. The wolf that took its time and enjoyed watching its prey panic before the kill.
Then another thought surfaced. If her father had taught her anything, it was this.
Gwendolyn Bright was nobody's prey.
She exploded forward. Her hand slapped the knife away before the man could react. His eyes widened. Instinctively, he threw a punch, but it was too slow. Gwen's kick slammed into his shin. As he stumbled, her elbow crashed into his nose. A sickening crunch. He roared, clutching his face as blood poured between his fingers.
The second man hesitated. Fight or run? He made the wrong choice. Grabbing a length of rusted metal pipe from the ground, he charged. Gwen planted a foot against the staggering Butterfly Knife, using him like a springboard. She launched herself forward, and both feet slammed square into the man's chest. The air exploded from his lungs, and he hit the pavement hard.
Butterfly Knife recovered faster than she'd hoped. He lunged again, but Gwen caught his wrist and twisted it. The knife clattered across the asphalt, and the man hissed in pain. A shove between the shoulder blades sent him stumbling forward. Her next strike dropped him to the ground.
The second man was already climbing back to his feet. Coughing, but still grabbing the pipe again.
Gwen moved first. She caught his arm and twisted until something cracked. A sharp strike to his ribs folded him in half, and a sweep of her leg finished the job. He crashed flat onto his back, clutching his side.
A dull whistle cut through the air behind Gwen. She didn't even have time to catch her breath. Something slammed into the back of her head. Pain exploded through her skull, and the world lurched sideways. Bright flashes burst across her vision. Nausea surged into her throat.
"God..." Gwen stumbled, clutching the back of her head. Then she looked up at Wardrobe. "...Did you just hit me with a fucking guitar?"
The giant blinked. Looked down at the battered old acoustic guitar in his hands, as if only now realizing he was holding it. He gave an innocent shrug.
Gwen opened her mouth to answer, but the world tilted. Darkness crept in around the edges of her vision, and her stomach twisted violently. She shook her head, trying to stay conscious, but everything kept drifting farther away. One hand found the brick wall. She managed one shaky breath. She never saw Wardrobe charging again, but lucky for her, someone else did.
The giant was suddenly ripped off his feet. With a grunt, he slammed into the opposite wall. The guitar flew from his hands, landing with a mournful twang as broken strings snapped against the pavement.
Gwen barely managed to follow the man's trajectory before dizziness overwhelmed her again. Someone gently grabbed her shoulder.
"Ma'am?"
A pause.
"Ma'am, can you hear me?"
A bright flashlight hit her straight in the eyes. That was the final straw. Her stomach lurched. She doubled over and threw up onto the pavement.
"Well, that's unfortunate," another voice said with obvious disappointment. "I don't think anyone's ever reacted to us like that before, man."
Spitting the bitter taste from her mouth, Gwen slid down the brick wall until she was sitting on the cold pavement.
"Hold on, genius," the first voice said. "She might have a concussion."
Everything was wrong. The flashlight was far too bright. The voices sounded distant, as if they were coming from underwater. Her skull throbbed in time with her heartbeat. And someone kept snapping their fingers right next to her ear.
"Ma'am? Can you tell me where you are? What's your name?"
"If you don't shove that flashlight out of my face, I'm going to make you eat it!" Gwen rasped, batting away the hands reaching for her.
"I think she's gonna be fine," the second voice said, unable to hide the grin in his tone.
The flashlight clicked off. Gwen blinked several times, waiting for the bright spots dancing across her vision to fade. Slowly, the alley stopped spinning. Her stomach, however, hadn't gotten the memo.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me..." She recoiled against the wall so fast it was almost impressive. "Who... what the hell are you?"
She squeezed her eyes shut. Opened them again. Nope. Still there. Apparently concussions came with incredibly detailed hallucinations.
Two enormous...
Green...
Reptile...
People?
Both wore masks. One purple, and one orange.
The one in purple snapped his green fingers in front of her face again. "Ma'am? Can you hear me? How are you feeling?"
"If seeing green men counts as 'feeling okay'..." Gwen muttered, pressing a hand against the back of her head. Her fingers came away stained with blood. "...then I'm doing fine."
"I really think you should see a doctor," Purple Mask continued in an almost painfully professional tone. "There's a good chance you're concussed."
Gwen barely heard him, because she was too busy staring.
The taller one wore two pairs of glasses. One sat crooked on his face, held together in the middle with tape. Another, bulkier pair rested on top of his head, fitted with oversized lenses and enough gadgets to qualify as a science project. His eyes caught her attention most. A warm golden-brown. Completely human. Honestly, they were probably the prettiest eyes she'd ever seen. His face hovered far closer than personal space normally allowed. Green scales covered every inch of visible skin, while a dark, bony plastron protected his chest, worn with enough scars to tell stories Gwen wasn't sure she wanted to hear.
She turned to the other one.
Shorter. Broader. Fingerless gloves and leather wrist wraps. His face was rounder, speckled with darker spots, and bright blue eyes studied her with open curiosity instead of caution.
"...Did she black out again?" the shorter one wondered aloud, poking Gwen's shoulder with a finger.
"Ma'am?" Purple Mask snapped his fingers again. "Ma'am?"
"Oh, would you stop that?" Gwen groaned, smacking his hand away. Using the wall for support, she staggered to her feet. "I am officially done with... whatever this is."
She pushed past both creatures, heading for the mouth of the alley. Three steps later, the world lurched violently sideways. Her knees buckled. Someone caught her before she hit the pavement.
"That was AWESOME!" the one in the orange mask beamed. He helped Gwen back onto her feet before immediately launching into an enthusiastic reenactment. "You went bam! Then wham! Then you kicked the guy like whoosh! And then BAM! Right there, right in the face!" He punctuated every sound effect with exaggerated punches and kicks aimed at absolutely no one.
"Michelangelo," Purple Mask warned, but Michelangelo either didn't hear him, or pretended not to.
"You were incredible!" he continued. "Right up until you got hit with a guitar. That's supposed to hurt, man."
Gwen stared at them. If they'd seen the whole fight, so why hadn't they helped? Had they seriously just stood there watching her get beaten up? Were they afraid to step in? One of these guys was built like three of those thugs stacked on top of each other. Surely it wouldn't have killed them to help.
Nobody's obligated to save you, she reminded herself. You got yourself into this mess.
"So..." Gwen said, dragging herself away from that train of thought. "What are you guys? Aliens or something?"
"Technically, we're turtles," the taller turtle replied, nudging his glasses back into place.
Gwen leaned sideways to look behind them. There they were. Shells. Huge ones, in fact. How had she missed those?
"And we're ninjas!" Michelangelo announced proudly, flourishing his nunchaku.
The weapon whistled straight past Gwen's face, and she instinctively flinched. Mikey looked completely unfazed. His energy filled the entire alley, bouncing from one thought to the next, while his quieter companion kept shooting increasingly desperate looks in his direction.
Gwen, meanwhile, was rapidly reaching the conclusion that she'd finally lost her mind. Because there was absolutely no reasonable explanation for two giant talking ninja turtles standing in front of her. However, her pounding headache kindly confirmed that reality remained very much intact.
Talking turtles.
Giant talking turtles.
Giant talking ninja turtles.
The thought scratched at the back of her mind. This sounds familiar. Then it clicked, and color drained from her face.
"No." Gwen shook her head in disbelief. "No, no, no... You've got to be kidding me. April wasn't actually right, was she? It's just stupid! Respectfully though."
"You're talking about our April?" Michelangelo asked, suddenly lighting up.
His partner shot him a warning look. It accomplished absolutely nothing.
"I mean," Mikey continued, "if we're talking about different Aprils, this conversation is gonna get really awkward."
Gwen covered her eyes with her hand, "Oh, my God. I called her crazy. Not to her face, mostly. But anyway, who hasn't? Do I have to apologize? Because I hate apologizing."
She sighed. Being wrong was bad enough. Admitting she'd been wrong? Even worse.
A year ago, when April O'Neil had started talking about four mutant turtle superheroes, everyone had assumed she'd finally snapped after one conspiracy theory too many. Gwen had laughed along with everyone else. However, some small part of her had secretly loved the idea. She'd always had a weakness for conspiracy theories.
Aliens.
Urban legends.
The supernatural.
Not because she truly believed every story, but because believing that the world might still have a few impossible things hidden in it made life a little less ordinary.
April O'Neil was a reporter at Channel 6, and Gwen worked as one of Channel 6's photographers. They crossed paths almost every day around the newsroom. They'd even ended up on the same team during a company bowling night once. Calling them friends would've been a stretch. Coworkers? Sure. They chatted about the weather, whatever disaster was making headlines, or Vernon Fenwick.
Mostly Vernon Fenwick.
Complaining about him was practically a workplace tradition. Which only made this whole situation even harder to process.
Was this the adrenaline? The concussion? Had she finally snapped and this was all one very elaborate hallucination inside a padded room somewhere? Because she really should've been terrified.
She'd been terrified in the park and the alley. But not now. No fear. Just confusion.
These creatures had saved her. If they'd wanted to hurt her, they could've stayed hidden and watched the whole thing play out. Besides, they looked friendlier than most people she'd met.
"You..." Donatello began. Then hesitated, clearly trying to find the least offensive way to phrase what he was about to say. "...You've just been attacked, hit over the head, and you're currently talking to two mutant ninja turtles. And the thing you're freaking out about is having to apologize to April?"
Gwen considered that for a bit. "Now that you say it out loud, that does sound kind of ridiculous."
Silence settled over the alley. The two turtles exchanged a look.
"Dude," Michelangelo finally declared. "She's nuts."
Donatello sighed. Mikey ignored him completely and enthusiastically stuck out a hand to Gwen. "I'm Michelangelo, but everybody calls me Mikey." He pointed at his brother. "That's Donnie. So how do you know April? Are you guys friends?"
Gwen accepted the handshake, and instantly regretted it. Michelangelo shook her hand with so much enthusiasm that her head started pounding all over again. She endured it heroically.
"Gwendoline," She said. "But everyone calls me Gwen."
One thing surprised her. His hand wasn't slimy. She'd expected slimy. Instead it was cool, rough, and calloused. It was different. Not unpleasant, just different.
"So..." She nodded toward the unconscious giant sprawled across the pavement. "Was that you?"
"Yes," Donatello answered. "He'll wake up soon. Do you live far from here?"
"No. About ten minutes away." Gwen lied. In fact, she had no idea where she was.
Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Michelangelo crouch beside the broken guitar, examining it with the solemn concentration of a museum curator.
Donatello didn't look convinced. "You sure you'll make it home?"
Gwen forced a smile. "Mhm."
"I still think you should see a doctor. Just a recommendation, " Donatello said matter-of-factly, adjusting his glasses. "Come on, Mikey. We should go."
"Oh! Have you seen that video of the cat climbing up a curtain?" Mikey blurted out, clearly determined to squeeze six conversations into the last ten seconds they had. "It's using all four paws and it's SO cute! Or the little dog dancing to music! No, wait! Better yet! There's this cat that plays the piano with chopsticks!"
"Mikey." Donatello was already halfway up the wall.
"You HAVE to watch the piano cat!" Mikey shouted, completely ignoring him.
Gwen nodded so vigorously she almost regretted it. "I will! I promise!"
"Awesome!" Mikey beamed, giving her two enthusiastic thumbs-up. "Then next time you see us, you can tell me what you thought!"
Finally satisfied, he vaulted after his brother, disappearing over the wall and into the darkness.
Silence returned to the alley.
Gwen cast one uneasy glance at the unconscious thugs. Then she hurried away. She still had to find her way home, and figure out how to process the fact that she'd just had a perfectly normal conversation with two giant mutant ninja turtles.
And, above all else, she was officially retiring from late-night runs. Some lessons only needed to be learned once.